


Take my hand (Take my whole life too)

by Ambros



Series: Tumblr Prompts [42]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Anniversary, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt, fluff fluff fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 16:49:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12303381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambros/pseuds/Ambros
Summary: “I look like a douche,” Alec complains, barely restraining himself from unrolling the sleeves of the blazer, currently rolled up almost to his elbows.“Yes,” Clary says, “But not Jace-douche, you know?”Jace gapes at her.“Yes, man, you look like a reformed bad boy who kept his wardrobe,” Simon says, enthusiastically, “Not one of those bad boys who are actually jerks, though. More like one of those who actually had a difficult life and didn't deal with it by being abusive – ”, Izzy elbows him in his side, “Okay, I'll shut up.”





	Take my hand (Take my whole life too)

**Author's Note:**

> An anon prompted me on Tumblr: "Hey can u maybe write a malec fic, if you want, about magnus and Alec and they are going on a date so Alec asks Izzy for help on how to dress and then the actual date itself??"  
> Here you go! :)  
> I hope you like this ^^

“You would think that after a year spent with Magnus Bane you would have learned how to properly dress without any help.”

“Can someone slap him for me, please?” Alec asks from inside the closet – no, the irony isn't lost on him. Thank you, Simon.

A satisfying _whack_ lets Alec know that someone did, and the following _dude, I was just carrying out orders!,_ lets him know that it was Simon.

He sighs, letting one of his older shirts fall on the floor – seriously, _why_ would he even buy that – and backs out of the closet: “This is all,” he says, pointing at the mess they've made on the bed.

Clary and Izzy stare pensively at the amount of clothes, picking one out from time to time and communicating between them with their eyebrows and pinched expressions. Alec is slowly but surely losing hope and Simon is muttering something about a sheer shirt he's seen Raphael wear.

“It's our anniversary,” Alec reminds him, snapping, “I'm not looking for a job as a stripper.”

Simon frowns, offended, and Izzy glares at Alec. Alec surrenders, raising his hands: “Sorry, I'm just – I don't know why I'm so stressed.”

“It's normal,” Clary says, rubbing her hand on Alec's biceps comfortably, “One year is a big deal. And it wasn't exactly a relaxing one.”

Alec sighs, falls down on the bed, his head close to Jace's knees, all of his clothes dangerously close to the edge: “I still haven't found anything to wear _and_ I haven't even set the office up.”

“Alright,” Izzy says, in her _taking control since you all are clearly incapable human beings_ tone, “Here's what we'll do. First, we need to find something for you to wear. Second, two of us,” she points at Jace and Simon, “will go set up the office and pick up the food while you shower and we,” she points at Clary and herself, “will get you ready.”

Alec frowns from the bed: “I'm not sure letting these two,” he points at Jace and Simon, who frown down at him, “set up the office is the greatest idea.”

“Good point,” Izzy says, ignoring Jace and Simon's protests, “Clary and Jace will go. _Without_ ,” she adds, a glare clear in her voice, “making out in the meantime.”

“We'll try,” Jace drawls, “Also,” he adds, slipping off the bed, “I have something Alec can wear.”

“Nothing too trashy,” Izzy warns, pointing her manicured finger at him.

Jace frowns: “I'm offended,” he says, but Clary is already dragging him through a portal back to the Institute.

*

Jace's arm pops out of the portal not ten minutes later in the creepiest way possible, a simple white t-shirt hanging from his fingers with a note on it that says _with the blazer_ ; Alec takes the shirt from his fingers and says: “We should communicate this way more often.”

Jace flips him off.

Izzy is already studying the t-shirt with a thoughtful tilt of her lips: “This could work,” she mutters, holding up the dark grey blazer over a tight pair of black jeans; she throws them on the bed with a satisfied clap of her hands: “You, go shower,” she orders, looking at Alec, then twirls to look at Simon: “You, go get me your hair product. And I'll need you to buy a pair of shoes.”

They both mutter: “Yes, ma'am.”

*

“I look like a douche,” Alec complains, barely restraining himself from unrolling the sleeves of the blazer, currently rolled up almost to his elbows.

“Yes,” Clary says, “But not Jace-douche, you know?”

Jace gapes at her.

“Yes man, you look like a reformed bad boy who kept his wardrobe,” Simon says, enthusiastically, “Not one of those bad boys who are actually jerks, though. More like one of those who actually had a difficult life and didn't deal with it by being abusive – ”, Izzy elbows him in his side, “Okay, I'll shut up.”

“But why can't I wear _socks_?”, Alec asks, pointing at his sock-less feet wrapped in a pair of new, black loafers.

“ _Because_ ,” Izzy says, in a tone that suggests she's going to lose her patience pretty soon, “That's how you wear them. Now shut up, you look great, let us fix your hair.”

“My hair?”, Alec asks, his hands reaching instinctively for his dark hair, “But I've already brushed my hair.”

Izzy looks unamused as she pushes him down on the bed, a can of _something_ in one hand and a comb in the other.

“We'll go pick up the food,” Clary says, dragging away Jace, who looks way too entertained.

The hair fixing part isn't as traumatic as Alec thought it'd be – mainly because it doesn't involve any cutting, which is great; Izzy brushes her hands in his hair a few times, with the slightest bit of hair gel in her hands, fixes a few strands of rebel hair here and there to create an artful mess that looks _almost_ intentional, like he's just spent an hour in a wind that was trying to comb his hair. He's actually impressed.

“This,” he says, looking at himself in the mirror, his eyebrows raised, “actually looks _good._ ”

“Of course it does,” Izzy says, trying to sound insulted and actually sounding pretty proud of herself.

Alec shakes his head and drags her closer, an arm thrown over her shoulder; he plants a kiss on her hair as she protests, something about wrinkles and ironing. “Thank you.”

Izzy smiles fondly: “You're welcome.”

*

He's nervous and he doesn't even know why.

He's pacing and he's been pacing for ten minutes.

The room is pretty much perfect and he's at least avoiding stepping on the petals scattered on the floor. There are two candles on the laden table and the lights are dimmed and Alec has unrolled his damn sleeves at least four times already. Izzy's text is still lighting up his phone.

There are three knocks on the door and Alec stills. “Come in,” he says, his voice trembling the tiniest bit, and Magnus comes in, saying: “Hey, Izzy said – ” before the surprise steals the voice right out of his throat.

He blinks, his eyes open wide as he takes in the sight before him. He's speechless and Alec feels the tension melt right out of him as he murmurs: “Happy anniversary.”, a smile curling his lips.

Magnus takes a few steps into the room, letting the door close behind him; “I – I thought you'd forgotten.”

Alec kisses his lips then, slow and tender, his hand cupping his neck, his fingers curled in his jacket: “I could never forget.”

*

It's dinner like every other night, except that it's fancier and there is no risk of someone receiving a call that will force them to leave the table mid-meal, and there's something soft and relaxed and sweet about the way they simply _are_ , in awe of the fact that they are there, _together_.

There is something that makes Alec stop listening while Magnus is talking, dessert between them: the realization, like a bone-deep knowledge, of everything they've had to fight in order to be there, and the certainty that he'd fight anything and anyone to have just one more second of this.

*

“There is one more thing,” Alec says as he stands up, the tips of his ears burning as Magnus looks up curiously at him, eyes bright.

He messes with his phone like Simon had shown him and music fills the air; he holds out his hand and Magnus takes it in wonder; flirtatiously he says: “I didn't know you dance.”

Alec sighs, wraps his arms around Magnus' waist and buries his nose in his neck; he whispers: “I really don't.”

Magnus wraps his arms around his neck, smiles against his skin: “It looks like you might.”

“I'll awkwardly sway in place for you.”

Magnus laughs, peppers Alec's neck with kisses and holds on tight, simple happiness filling his lungs.

_Take my hand, take my whole life too  
For I can't help falling in love with you._

  


  



End file.
